


Among Us

by smuttytaelien



Category: Among Us (Video Game), Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Enemies to Lovers, Graphic Description, Hwang Hyunjin & Lee Felix are Best Friends, M/M, Major Character Injury, Minor Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Murder, Shy Han Jisung | Han
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:07:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26756266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smuttytaelien/pseuds/smuttytaelien
Summary: kill, vent, hide.task, run, suspect.task, run, suspect.task, run, suspect.kill, vent, hide.kill, regret, fall in love.minho killed to survive.but he couldn't kill jisung.AMONG US x STRAY KIDS
Relationships: Bang Chan/Lee Felix, Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 26
Kudos: 100





	1. lee minho: the backstory

Profiles (1,380,049 files) 

[ Profile: Lee Minho ]

➤ Basic Information   
| Age: 21  
| Birthday: October 25th, 1998  
| Assigned Color: Lime  
| Generation: Third Wave  
| Children: None

➤ Games Won: 365   
| Game 1, duration 24:53  
| Game 2, duration 15:21  
| Game 3, duration 12:35  
View 362 Other Games… 

Minho heard stories of the planet the elders called ‘Earth’. It was said to be large, but not larger than the planet to their right, Jupiter. It had sparkling blue oceans, and sandy banks that people used to tan. Some of the elders still had their spots from such endeavors. Earth was populated with humans of every race, ethnicity, sexuality. The sun set at night, whatever that was, and rose in the daytime. But that was before the Election, before the overcrowded landfills and selfishness of humans that destroyed the planet. There was nothing left on Earth besides discarded forks and toothbrushes. People abandoned the planet in favor of life. They were promised food, shelter, water, if they boarded the spacecraft ‘Beyond’ and traveled into space. Minho’s grandparents agreed in a heartbeat. Minho wouldn’t do the same. 

He didn’t know the concept of daytime and nighttime. The sun constantly beat on the rusted metal spacecraft, even after he closed his eyes during Replenishment hours. Plants were a legend spread through generations from the ancestors who hardly remembered their own names. The only similarities between Beyond and the planet Earth was the population. Since the Second Wave, the Captain implemented a program used to reduce population size and single out the weak from the strong. Teenagers on Earth may call it a futuristic holocaust, but Minho had no access to the books the elders spoke of. All he knew was that the weak died, and he had to be strong. Third Waves without children participated in this program, called Among Us by the teenagers and Population Decreasing Program (PDP) by the elders. 

Among Us shoved eight Third Waves into an unpopulated area of the ship and told them to kill each other. It was a test of wits, bravery, and cunning that ended in death. One person was dubbed the Imposter, and was meant to kill everyone to survive. The other seven completed Tasks around the ship, which Minho believed was a lazy way for the higher-ups to do their jobs via terrified Third Waves. Each player was equipped with a colored suit and a glowing button in the same color, meant to be clicked when a player encountered a dead body. The players were children, adults, and teenagers of the latest generation in their family. Minho was a Third Wave, and an only child. His children would be forced to participate in the games when they turned thirteen, seeing as they were the latest generation. Some of his fellow Third Waves already had children of their own as a scapegoat to avoid participating in the games for longer than necessary. Minho found it despicable. He’d rather spend his entire life fighting than force his children to fight for him. 

He wiped the blood from his knife on a black cloth he kept on his bedside table, and tossed the weapon to the side. His lime green suit glowed eerily in the flickering lights of his bedroom. It was stained on the left knee, a splotchy blood spot from some kid in cyan he hadn’t bothered to remember. That was a trick of the game. Don’t look at your victim’s eyes, they hold too many memories. Minho had a mental list he created after his third game as an Imposter. 

Don’t look into their eyes  
Don’t speak unless spoken too  
No one is innocent  
Your best friend is not your ally  
Do your tasks diligently   
You are not a bad person

The sixth was a newer addition to the list. Minho knew of people, Impostors, specifically, who willingly admitted to their positions as a means of suicide. It broke his withered soul every time a person begged for death. How scary it was to live in a reality where murder was a better alternative to life. 

The dinner alarm sounded throughout the ship, and Minho winced at the shrill screech. His hair was matted with blood, and the boots on his feet reeked of iron. He slipped the shoes off his feet and stowed them under his twin bunk before hobbling to the shower. Cyan fought back, surprisingly, and his heavy boot heel left a blooming bruise on Minho’s thigh. It would be gone by the next game on Saturday, but it served as an unwanted reminder. The dinner alarm rang, and rang, and Minho ignored it in favor of starting his shower. Water was once a luxury in space, and Minho was trained to treat it as such. He scrubbed his body, spending a few seconds longer on his thigh as if a loofah could wash away years of guilt, washed his hair, and turned the water off. The dinner alarm was still ringing when he stepped into a pair of sweatpants and threw a wrinkled t-shirt over his scarred torso. He slid his chamber door open with a swoosh, and he pattered his way to the cafeteria. The Beyond was quiet at dinner, save for the electric whirring of the lights and occasional clank of meteors on metal. 

Minho grabbed his tray from the cart and found an unoccupied table near the Admin Room. Most tables were empty or sparsely occupied, and the full tables held only family members. Socializing was dangerous. Friends were dangerous.One day you were eating dinner in the cafe, talking about girls or whatever normal teenagers talked about, and the next, you had a knife to their neck to survive. No feelings, no remorse. 

He shoved a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth and locked his eyes onto the lights peeking from the Admin Room door. An hour ago, he killed a fifteen-year-old in that room. A week ago, he swiped his ID card and escaped death by the skin of his teeth. A year before that, he watched Pink snap his best friend’s neck. No feelings, no sorrow. 

Minho handed his tray to an elderly attendant with orange fingernails. Representation was common in families of fighters. Parents, siblings, grandparents, the few friends one managed to have, would paint the color of their loved one on some part of their body. Women typically leaned towards the appeal of nail polish, and men preferred colored war paint. Taeyong preferred the lime coat of nail polish over the flashy streaks across cheekbones and foreheads. He was different in that sense. He wasn’t made to kill, not like Minho, who’s frightening nonchalance towards death pumped through his veins. Taeyong was sincere in every definition of the word, and had deep-sunken benevolent eyes that stared into Minho’s soul when the knife thrust through his abdomen. He died slowly. No feelings, no longing. 

The lady took Minho’s tray with a charming smile, and Minho returned a curt nod. He escaped the cafeteria with nimble steps. Taeyong once said he resembled a cat. Minho had never heard of cats before. They were cute, according to his friend, with big shining eyes and pointy ears. They prowled lightly, paws barely touching the floor, and attacked when least expected. They had swishy tails and slits for pupils. To Minho, they sounded terrifying, but Taeyong knew the truth. Taeyong always knew the truth. No feelings, no betrayal. 

He shut his compartment door and flicked on the lamp. The yellow glow against his neon suit made an ugly puke color that looked similar to the potatoes he digested minutes before. The laundry room was usually unoccupied immediately after dinner, with most of the population preparing for Replenishment. He manhandled his suit into an easy-to-carry bundle and walked the short distance to the laundry room. True to his observations, two out of the twenty washers were occupied, and he plopped his clothes into the one closest to the door. Minho needed to see a door at all times. Some called it instinct, he called it survival. 

After thirty minutes of counting the meteors that passed outside the glass pane separating the laundry room and certain doom, the washer beeped. Minho pulled his sopping uniform from the washer and tossed it into the adjoint dyer, setting a timer for an hour. As fun as mindlessly watching large rock bodies zoom through endless darkness, Minho refused to stand around for an hour. He would have to fetch his uniform in the morning. The digital clock flipped to 6:55 p.m. when Minho entered his room indefinitely. He cuddled under his itchy duvet and turned the lamp off. The sun was shining through his window, and his Replenishment began.


	2. bang chan: the backstory

Profiles (1,380,051 files) 

[ Profile: Bang Chan ]

➤ Basic Information   
| Age: 22  
| Birthday: October 3rd, 1997  
| Assigned Color: Black  
| Generation: Third Wave  
| Children: One

➤ Games Won: 263  
| Game 1, duration 39:12  
| Game 2, duration 24:57  
| Game 3, duration 17:42  
View 260 Other Games… 

Chan didn’t have a child. He had a boyfriend once, in the eighth grade, but they broke up because they never held hands on the playground. His profile was altered, fabricated to keep him from the PDP. If anyone asked, he was supposed to say his son was bunking with his great grandparents for the week, but Chan didn’t have grandparents either. His entire life was a lie, from his imaginary four-year-old son, to the grandparents he allegedly spent the majority of his time with. His parents were Second Waves, the children of the first captain of the Beyond. His father took over the ship when his grandparents died. Chan wasn’t alive for that, but he’s heard rumors of his grandparents' betrayal, their longing for Earth and the plan they hatched to get there. He figured he’d never learn the truth, and he was perfectly content with being oblivious. It hurt far less than a lie. 

Chan despised his father for supporting the PDP, and the hostility stayed into his adult years. Among Us was traumatizing. The children who managed to survive were terrified of the world, most begging for someone to kill them and finally stop the images replaying in their mind like a plague. Chan had been that kid once. He was thirteen when he participated in his first game, thankfully as a crewmate. But even then, the suspense and distrust towards the people he considered his friends hours before left him reeling. The crewmates won the game, but the screams of the girl sent into space to die haunted him. He couldn’t hate her anymore than he hated himself. They were all playing to survive, after all. His first game as the Imposter came exactly twenty three weeks later. His father, distraught and armed with the necessary equipment to ensure his son's survival, fair or not, shoved him into the room with a knife and his black suit. Chan won, but he hadn’t raised a finger to kill. His father cared about Chan in his own elusive way, and when Chan found the pile of decapitated bodies in the electrical room, he knew the cause. The smell of his throw-up lingered in the stuffy room for weeks. 

On his eighteenth birthday, his father pulled Chan to a secluded room in the ship and proposed an idea. Chan would pretend to have a son, and his father would add the child to his profile. In exchange, Chan promised to continue the program after his father’s death. Chan’s decision was obvious, say no, and he did. But four months later, he met Lee Felix, and his father found him kneeled outside his bedroom door, forehead to the floor. He begged to be dismissed from the games, not for himself, but for Felix. He couldn’t imagine his sunshine mourning his loss, the sparkle gone from his pretty eyes and tears staining his cheeks like a second skin. His father agreed, and Bang Hyunki was born. He had a father that loved him more than life, and a deceased mother. He loved his great grandparents room and the color black, like his dad. He had a toy truck that Chan’s father saved for him from the ruins of Earth, and it honked when he rolled it. 

Bang Hyunki was not real, but Lee Felix was. And he was participating in the game on Friday, much to Chan’s chagrin. His father's hospitality didn't stretch to Chan’s boyfriend, and his sunshine faced death every week. Sometimes he was allowed to sit in the Monitoring Rooms during the games, and his father didn’t comment when Chan told Felix to run or who to kill. It showed that his father had a smidge of humanity left in his heart, even after watching people kill each other for a living. 

He met Felix when the then strawberry blonde teenager played in a game with him, thankfully as crewmates. Chan regarded him as another nameless face, reducing him to the color of his vest, a sunshine yellow. It wasn’t until he saw Felix sitting alone in the cafeteria that he bothered to put a name to the smiling face. Lee Felix, he said with a smile that rivaled the glow of the stars. Bang Chan, he replied, but he lacked the enthusiasm Felix contained in his small body. He was twenty, Felix nineteen, and somehow, amidst the murder and the trauma, they fell in love. The passengers knew of their relationship, they gossiped about the freckled boy dating the Captain’s son so he could get out of the games. Felix never asked, never even mentioned the possibility of being exempt from the games, but the question lingered on his tongue, Chan knew. He swore that if he watched Felix get stabbed through that monitor one day, he would run to the game and save him, regardless of the rule against outside contact. 

Chan held his coffee cup to his lips and sipped carefully at the scalding liquid splashing inside. His Replenishment hours ended about thirty minutes ago, but his bones ached with tiredness. Something deeper ached too, and it made his fingers twitch against the ceramic mug. He spent most of his day learning how to work the Monitor with his father. The screams kept him awake. They terrified him. Five years of screams should have acclimated him. Five years of stained knives and weeping parents should be normal for him. But every parent wailing for their dead child broke his soul. 

Felix was probably eating breakfast with his cousin, Hyunjin, in the cafeteria by now. Chan disposed of his cup and pulled a hoodie over his chest. The cafeteria was crowded at breakfast, especially with a scheduled game. Players flocked to the cafeteria to replenish for their fight, and the majority of the lines for the carts were children under the age of sixteen. Chan recognized Lee Minho, a well-known fighter for his ruthless tactics, three people ahead of him. Changbin, Chan’s friend, fidgeted awkwardly behind Minho, who was his idol. It was cute. Chan grabbed his tray of limp sausage and french toast, and spotted Hyunjin’s blonde hair amongst the crowd. He clambered over the short benches and kissed Felix’s star-strewn cheek. The younger smiled bashfully, and Chan dug in. It wasn’t until Chan returned to his compartment later that evening that he realized the screaming stopped. 

Profiles (1,380,051 files) 

[ Profile: Bang Daehyun ]

➤ Basic Information   
| Age: 53  
| Birthday: July 26th, 1967  
| Assigned Color: White  
| Generation: Second Wave  
| Children: One

➤ Games Won: 172  
| Game 1, duration 30:52  
| Game 2, duration 28:12  
| Game 3, duration 19:26  
View 169 Other Games… 

Daehyun made a promise twenty years ago that he would implement the games at all costs. In the beginning, Among Us did its job perfectly, reducing the overwhelming population by nearly 27%. The birth of the Third Waves saw a record decrease in birth rate, mainly due to parent’s fear of having their child killed, but the games continued. They were unnecessary, Daehyun knew. His own son resented him for the games, they lost a daughter to Among Us, and his wife was on the verge of a breakdown. Chan was too kind-hearted to continue the games, and that was why Daehyun urged him to Captain the ship. Chan could stop the games, he could stop the cries, silence the screams. The screams haunted him the most. 

Monitoring destroyed his views on death. Death was as natural as eating in the cafeteria, and the monitors showed his son was doing so now. The hand curled around his fork held a knife just as carelessly. Felix leaned into Chan’s side, and Daehyun tore his eyes away from the screen. He had a game starting in an hour, he couldn’t afford distractions. He opened the link to the list of eight names, and scanned them quickly. Three were females over the age of seventeen with amazing track records, one was an elderly widow, and the other four were kids ranging from thirteen to fifteen. Daehyun read their Game Information, and selected the elderly woman as the Impostor. She was nearing the age of seventy-eight, and her death wouldn’t cause the guilt killing a thirteen-year-old would. When the game began, she would be alerted of her status via earpiece, which is what Chan used to surreptitiously slip hints to Felix. 

An hour later, the intercom buzzed to life and ordered everyone to return to their compartments. Daehyun watched Chan slink into Felix’s, and started the game. 

Three people died, and the screams started again.


	3. han jisung: the backstory

Profiles (1,380,051 files) 

[ Profile: Han Jisung ]

➤ Basic Information   
| Age: 20  
| Birthday: September 14th, 2000  
| Assigned Color: Red  
| Generation: Third Wave  
| Children: One (Deceased)

➤ Games Won: 0

The bunker was pitch black. People shuffled quietly in the desolate room, but were unseen. Jisung spent three years in the Bunker, from the day he turned thirteen until the day his daughter was born. The bunker was located in the ship’s belly, in a small air compartment under the storage crates. It was dangerous to hide your child from the games, deadly even, but the contaminated air and starvation found in the bunker were far more dangerous. His parents dropped him into the hole with a kiss on his forehead and a promised chance at life the day of his thirteenth birthday. That was the last time he saw them. Jisung knew of three other children in the bunker, and they were all thirteen, like he was. Jeongin, Seungmin, Himself, and Yeji. Jeongin and Seungmin barely spoke to anyone but each other, save for the occasional request for food or warmth. Jeongin in particular, loved to fall asleep curled under Jisung’s twiggy arms. Yeji was beautiful, from what Jisung could feel. She had sharp almond eyes, and a perfectly sloped nose that led to a plump bottom lip. She told Jisung her hair was brown, and her skin matched the color of browned peaches. Jisung believed her. 

Yeji was his first love, although he didn’t know what love was at the time. They spent hours talking and laughing into the palms of their hands so the players couldn’t hear their happiness. They huddled together in the farthest corner of the bunker when the games began and the blood dripped through the cracks into their sanctuary. Yeji kissed him for the first time on his fourteenth birthday. They had clumsy, awkward, teenage sex on his fifteenth birthday, and Han Yuhae was born on June 26th. They were stupid, young, and in love, but they knew better than to raise a child in a metal bunker that reeked of death. Yuhae deserved the world, and Jisung would give it to her at any cost. They devised a risky plan, one that Jisung inveighed against strongly. He would take their daughter and climb to the surface during Replenishment Time, and leave Yeji behind. She wasn’t strong enough, she said, and Jisung could hear the exhaustion in her voice, the coolness of her cheeks. Seungmin and Jeongin asked to join him, and he agreed. 

Replenishment Time was announced over the speakers, and Yeji handed Yuhae to her father with a kiss that said goodbye in every language. The three boys and one baby girl opened the hatch, and Jisung found that Yeji’s skin was the color of ash, not peaches. Her hair was bordering dirty-blonde from years in the dark, and her eyes were hazy. She was not the girl he fell in love with, not anymore. Jeongin and Seungmin slipped into the corridor, and Jisng followed, shutting the hatch behind them. Jeongin and Seungmin found their parents' compartments, and offered to let him stay. Mrs. Kim fussed over the thin state of his babygirl, and took her from Jisung’s shaking arms. The yellow-ish light from the fluorescent lights was overwhelming, and the pounding in his head forced him to sit down. Yuhae wailed in the background, but all Jisung could feel was his brain smashing against his skull. One week at the Kims turned into a year, and Yuhae was waddling around the room, slamming her little fists on the walls. They found Yeji’s deteriorating body in the hatch a month after the three boys escaped, and Jisung clung tighter to his daughter. 

Yuhae grew beautifully, with the same dark hair her mother once had. Her eyes were as dark as mahogany, and shaped like Yeji’s. That was how Jisung came to know Hyunjin, Yeji’s twin-like cousin. He recognized Yuhae’s eyes when the father-daughter duo were eating in the cafeteria, and approached them with a sob that silenced the room. Jisung’s first instinct was to pull Yuhae into his side as the creepy crying man approached, wearily eyeing the exit. But then Hyunjin stared at him with his almond eyes, and Jisung understood. Hyunjin adored Yuhae with every bone in his slender body, but his distaste towards Jisung limited him from seeing her. Jisung escaped the bunker, yes, but it was Yeji’s idea, and he refused to take the blame for her death. 

That was two years ago. Now, Jisung stood at the ejection site, watching his daughter’s pale little body be pushed into the cosmos. She would shine like the stars, Jeongin said, but his consultation fell on deaf ears. Yuhae was sick. It wasn’t Jisung’s fault, but guilt tore at his heart like a roaring chainsaw. When Hyunjin punched him, he didn’t retaliate, just laid on the metal floor and cried until the tears bled into his lungs. The Captain came to him after the last of the guests left the room, and informed Jisung of his participation in the games. His parents lives, Yeji’s life, all wasted. The Captain assigned him the color Red, and promised to deliver his suit to the Kim’s room. Sure enough, when Replenishment ended, a red suit was hanging on the hook in his closet, next to Jeongin’s pink one, and Seungmin’s purple one. 

Jisung knew nothing about what Seungmin and Jeongin called Among Us. He didn’t know how to fix wires, or swipe cards, he hardly knew how to keep another human being alive, nevermind himself. Seungmin and Jeongin prepared him the best they could before Friday, explaining tasks and how to be the Impostor. It made Jisung’s stomach churn, and he finally understood why a parent would abandon their child in the bunker. While the trio ate in the cafeteria, Seungmin pointed out the most ruthless of Impostors, and who was the sneakiest. Lee Minho fell into both categories. Seungmin and Jeongin never played with him as an Impostor (thank fucking god, Seungmin said), but everyone who went into a game with Lee Minho didn’t come out. He was an efficient crewmate that finished his tasks first, and a silent hunter. No one saw him coming until they had a knife through their throat, and he disappeared as quietly. He was careful with his kills, knew just where to stab to avoid becoming soaked in blood and revealing his identity. The elders said he would have been a wonderful nurse on Earth. But this wasn’t Earth, and no one helped the hurt on the Beyond. 

Jisung tried on his suit, the red complementing the dark hue of his hair. It hung from his scrawny bones comically, and he wondered if they had a seamstress on the ship, like he would live to have his suit taken in. Friday was only two days away, and he had no hope of surviving to see the twinkling stars on Saturday. Tomorrow morning, he would suit up and be thrown into a room of strangers that were fighting to survive. Among Us wasn’t a game. Games were fun. People didn’t die playing games. Among Us was a way of survival, and if a knife wasn’t in your hand, it was in your back. Jisung would fight for his life, like Yeji and his parents did for him. He owed them that much. He put his suit back on it’s flimsy hanger, and held Yuhae’s onesie to his chest. 

For Friday, he promised to do one thing, avoid Lee Minho at all costs.


	4. lee minho: task one

Game 366  
| 0:00

Minho secured his knife in the deep pockets of his suit and adjusted the collar. Helmets weren't required, and Minho preferred to avoid them. They clinked when he walked, and in the early days, he had multiple incidents of slamming his helmet against the vent cover. The participants received their roles only forty seconds ago, and Minho was pleased to be the Impostor. When he held the knife, he was in control, and it settled the anxiousness lingering deep in his bones. He heard the stories surrounding his name, the fear of parents, and the quivering of children, and he wasn't proud. But he didn't have time to ponder his fading morality, the games had begun. 

The officials shoved him into the center of the cafeteria and fled the scene, feet clomping on the metal walkways. Minho glanced at the seven terrified faces standing around the table. He recognized Lee Felix, the boyfriend of the Captain's son, and Hwang Hyunjin, Felix's cousin. Pink and purple were familiar to him, but he hadn't bothered to learn their names. Green was Seo Changbin, and his eyes bore into Minho's, leaking admiration. Minho tilted his head to the side, and Changbin bashfully averted his gaze. Odd. Minho looked at the shaking man standing directly to his left. His red suit hung from his body and draped loosely across his arms in a way that mimicked ghost costumes from what the elders called Halloween. His fingers picked at the thick fabric nervously, and his bottom lip was cherry red from the irritation of his teeth. He was new, clearly, but Minho saw a determination in him that the other six lacked. They expected death, this person denounced it.

The timer started, and Minho counted the numbers under his breath. 5... 4... 3... 2...1. Minho walked down the hallway leading to the storage room and turned into Communications. No one came into communications unless he sabotaged the comms, which made it an ideal hiding location. The list of tasks Minho was supposed to "do" was sent to the small screen integrated into the sleeve of his suit. The screen was face-activated and housed the player's list of tasks, taskbar, and sabotage options. Minho tapped the sabotage icon and selected the Reactor. Lights flashed, and he heard the pattering of feet on the metal before he slipped, undetected, from Communications and ran to Navigation. The alarms blared in his earpiece, but the sound was familiar. Newbies weren't accustomed to the shrill beeping, and teenagers especially never lasted with their earpieces. 

Minho jogged to a stop outside Nav and briefly checked the camera. No red light. No one was watching. The determined boy from the cafeteria was fiddling with the colorful wires in the electrical box, brows furrowed in concentration. He pressed the frayed ends together and yelped when the shock zapped his fingers. Minho knew wires better than he knew the contours of his face, the chestnut hue of his hair. Either this person was colorblind or oblivious. Red grabbed the wires again, rolling his shoulders as if preparing for a war against electricity, and pressed the pink wire to the yellow. Minho surged forward and shoved Red to the side only seconds before the wires sparked. 

"You have to connect the colors, dopey. Are you stupid?" Minho rolled his eyes and grabbed the blue wire, effortlessly connecting it to it's matching counterpart. Red approached him cautiously, and Minho was reminded of his position. He was an Impostor, not a Crewmate. This man was nothing more than an obstacle to his success. 

The Reactor was stabilized, but nobody was around besides him and the terrified man in front of him. He unsheathed his knife and lunged, pinning Red to the ground. Red screamed and kicked in a weak attempt to knock Minho off his torso, but Minho was stronger. "What are you fighting for, anyway?" Minho panted, sweat dripping down the back of his stuffy suit. Red's writhing body went pliant beneath him. His throat was uncovered, and Minho could easily plunge his knife through Red's honey-skin. But he froze. He wasn't sure why when he was fighting for his own life as well, but the hand holding the hilt of his knife fell to his side. 

"I'm fighting for my daughter," Red admitted fiercely. 

"You wouldn't be here if you had a daughter," Minho countered, tone cool as ice. "Don't lie to me when you're at my mercy, little sparrow." 

Red stared at him inquisitively. Minho saw the passion in his eyes turn to a murky mix of pure terror and helplessness. All of his victims had the same eyes when they looked at him. Red talked about his daughter and his pupils sparkled. No one talked about Minho and sparkled, they shook. 

"You're Lee Minho, aren't you?" Red stuttered. Yes, he was, but he was also so much more! He wanted to scream. He didn't kill for fun, he wasn't a monster, but Red's eyes said otherwise. Minho needed to prove he wasn't a monster. To himself or Red, he wasn't certain. 

"Let's make a deal, hm? I won't kill you if you promise not to expose me. We'll both get out of here alive, and you can go back to your daughter. If I die, I promise you will die with me." Minho stood and brushed the dirt from his knees. "Do we have a deal, little sparrow?" Minho held out his hand, and Red took it. His palm was soft and uncalloused. He didn't have stubborn blood caked under his fingernails and buried in the wrinkles of his knuckles. 

Red backed away and touched the frayed ends of the yellow wires together. They crackled to life, and he cheered quietly. He and Minho were both fighting for survival, but while Minho was rough palms and muscled thighs, Red was proud smiles and undying hope. Minho leaned on the doorway and watched. He would protect Red from the harsh truth of the games. They would both live, and his eyes would sparkle again, maybe one day towards Minho.

"My name is Jisung, by the way," Jisung said, slamming the cover of the electrical box shut. 

Minho tilted his head and grinned. "Whatever you say, little sparrow." 


	5. lee felix: task two

Profiles (1,380,051 files) 

[ Profile: Lee Felix ]

➤ Basic Information   
| Age: 20  
| Birthday: September 15th, 2000  
| Assigned Color: Yellow  
| Generation: Third Wave  
| Children: None 

➤ Games Won: 342  
| Game 343 in Progress... 4:06

Felix rushed to electrical, wary of his surroundings. Electrical and storage were the hotspots for death, and best to be avoided or tackled with a trusted player. Felix could do neither. Hyunjin and he parted ways after their first task together in admin (swipe card, which took an embarrassingly long time for people who have done it almost 350 times.) They promised to meet up in Security when they were done, and Felix trusted Chan to keep him alive long enough to be there. His earpiece crackled and Chan's voice filtered through the static. 

"Be careful, Lixie. I can't cancel our dinner plans if you die." 

Felix shook his head with a giggle and opened the calibrator. Dinner plans included the very prestigious cafeteria and a tray of flimsy french fries, and on special occasion, a pudding cup. He focused his attention on the calibrator, ignoring Chan's gentle humming. The colorful swirling circles made him dizzy the first time he calibrated the distributor, but now it pissed him off. He could already tell from the difficulty of his admin task that he would be having an off-day, and he didn't want to linger in electrical longer than necessary. The blue aligned with the bar, and he quickly clicked it into place. His focus was centered on getting in and out, but he fumbled when Chan spoke through his earpiece, and the calibrator reset. 

"Red and Lime are coming your way," Chan warned him. Lime was Minho, which was concerning, and Red was Jisung. Felix heard the story of Hyunjin's cousin and Jisung, who were hidden in an underground room. It was horrifying, the conditions in which they lived, but Felix had a lot of respect for Jisung. It took a great dad to risk his life for his child, and Yeji, too. They sacrificed everything for their daughter, and it saddened Felix to learn of her death. When Felix heard Hyunjin punched Jisung, he almost went feral on his friend. Hyunjin was angry about his sister, but it took a special type of person to sacrifice themselves, and Yeji was every bit that person. 

Jisung walked in with Minho on his tail, eyes flitting around the room nervously. Jisung screamed newbie, from the insecure hunch of his shoulders to the way he refused to meet Felix's eyes. Minho, however, stood with his spine straighter than a needle, and he returned Felix's gaze with a curt nod. Felix remembers his first game with Minho, his first game ever, actually. Minho was intimidating, all sharp edges and emotionless eyes. He spoke only once to Felix, asking him to watch him scan in medbay, and that was the peak of their interactions. Minho spoke in motions, the wave of a finger or the nod of a head. He saved his words for voting time, and he used them well. He and Felix played together multiple times, and Felix's knees still shook when Minho walked behind him to follow Jisung. 

Realistically, he knew he was safe, but Minho terrified him. The one time Felix played with Minho as an Impostor, he was lucky enough to be the final player. He knew it wasn't because Minho had any sort of liking towards him. In fact, Chan told him later that Minho was an acquaintance of his, and he had asked a favor before the game began.

Jisung slammed open the electrical box and winced. His hands fidgeted with the wires, tapping them hesitantly against one another and looking to Minho for approval. Minho leaned against the metal tower housing the light circuits with his arms crossed and a sleazy smile on his face. Felix panicked harder. Alliances meant secrets, which meant Felix wasn't as safe as he believed he was. He clicked the blue bar, clicked the second one, and when he got to the third, an arm hooked around his throat. Felix clawed at the lime sleeve and glanced desperately towards Jisung. Jisung grimaced and busied himself with the wires in his hands. 

"Lix, his stomach is uncovered. If you can land a hit, he should let go." Chan's words were calm, but his tone was worried, and Felix knew no matter what he hit he wouldn't make it out in one piece. The task bar on Minho's wrist went up, and Jisung bolted towards the door. 

"Remember, Sung, meet me in admin, okay?" Minho reminded him, arm locked around Felix's neck like a fleshy noose. Minho dragged Felix behind the metal tower after a nod from Jisung and unsheathed his knife with one hand. Chan was screaming in his earpiece, a mantra of "Felix, baby" and spontaneous fighting tactics. Felix found that he didn't want to fight. Years of killing made him dull to everything but Chan. Chan was his beautiful boyfriend that held the world in his eyes. Not the world they knew with metal walls and clunky cafeteria trays. Chan reminded him of white daisies and flowing ponds that he heard of in history books. Chan was a world beyond this senseless killing, and Felix would never live in it. And for whatever reason, he was okay with that. 

Minho watched the fight drain from his body, and for a moment, their eyes connected. This mutual understanding was one they'd both seen countless times, but it still made Felix's heart stutter in his chest. Minho had a mole on the tip of his nose, and the slight curl of his lips gave him a permanent smile, even with a deep frown. Felix hoped he would one day escape the hell draining them all. 

"Felix, what are you doing?" Chan screamed, and Felix smiled. 

"Channie," he whispered, and the knife against his throat bobbed with his Adam's apple. "I'll meet you in the stars." 

Minho leaned forward so his lips skimmed the top of Felix's pointy ears, and whispered softly. "I'm so sorry, Chan." His voice was thick as honey, dripping in sympathy, but they both knew what had to happen. The knife plunged into the side of his neck. Chan screamed. 

Felix closed his eyes, and he was free. 

➤ Game 343  
| Defeat, 5:11


	6. hwang hyunjin: task two

Profiles (1,380,051 files) 

[ Profile: Hwang Hyunjin ]

➤ Basic Information   
| Age: 20  
| Birthday: March 20th, 2000  
| Assigned Color: White   
| Generation: Third Wave  
| Children: None 

➤ Games Won: 342  
| Game 343 in Progress... 7:12

Hyunjin checked the cams, closed the cams, checked them again, closed them again. Felix struggled with calibrating, sure, most of them did, but it never took him two minutes to finish a task. No reported bodies was the only thing keeping Hyunjin in Security, waiting for a boy he didn’t know was dead in Electrical. 

He continued his rhythmic switching between on cams and off cams until he heard footsteps from the Southern Hallway (for reference, they’re playing the Skeld). Seven years, Hyunjin played this game, and he knew the blueprint better than his own face. Where the ship lacked in mirrors, it made up for in game maps. At least three were plastered on each hallway, and Hyunjin had a large one hanging above his bed. The footsteps slowed outside the doorway to Security, and Hyunjin leaned back to get a glimpse of the player attached to the obnoxious purple suit. 

Kim Seungmin, of course. The Beyond was small enough for everyone to know each other but big enough to allow for personal space and relationships. Hyunjin knew of Seungmin, best friends with Jeongin and one of the best singers on the ship. They lived on the same poster-covered hallway, and sometimes when Hyunjin snuck to visit Felix, he heard Seungmin singing. He had the voice and face of an angel, and his eyes bore into Hyunjin’s, wide as cafeteria trays and filled with surprise. Seungmin paused his wiring and prepared to escape. He had one foot planted behind him, ready to run for his life, and was halfway back into the hallway before Hyunjin called out to him. 

“Seungmin! Wait!” 

Seungmin looked horrified, but he stayed, warily glancing around the deserted hallway. 

“Have you seen Yellow anywhere? He was supposed to meet me here.”

Seungmin shook his head, a simple no. No, he hadn’t seen Felix, and his best friend would probably never be seen alive again. Hyunjin checked the timer embedded in his tablet. 8 minutes and 45 seconds. Something was wrong, and it made his anxiety skyrocket. He unceremoniously shoved past Seungmin and rushed down the Southern hallway. He heard Seungmin’s hesitant footfalls behind him, but they faded beneath the roaring of the lower engine. Seungmin caught up to him at the entrance to electrical, and already he could smell the iron permeating the room. He plugged his nose and rushed into Electrical, but even that couldn’t stop the stench of death from invading his nostrils. The smell clung to every fiber of his being, and he would have run back into the hallway and threw up his food if Seungmin wasn’t behind him, guiding Hyunjin with a gentle hand on his back. 

They turned the corner, and Hyunjin finally let his breakfast go. Felix managed to take his breath away even when he was lying in a pool of his blood. Hyunjin wanted to scream, cry, anything to annunciate the pain he was feeling, but he could only produce a weak gasp before collapsing by his cousin's side. 

Seungmin cursed, and Hyunjin heard someone slam into the electrical box with a dull metallic thump. “Jeongin, what did you do?” Seungmin hissed and slammed the boy against the wall again. “Fucking tell me, Jeongin! What did you do?” 

Jeongin whimpered against Seungmin’s hold, clawing at the hands around his neck. Something, an object, clattered to the ground, and Hyunjin scrambled to grab it before Jeongin could reclaim it. It was a knife, about 12 inches in length, with a blade that looked sharp enough to cut steel like butter. Only Impostors received knives, and Hyunjin’s hands shook around the hilt, wanting to plunge it straight into the kid’s heart. 

“How the hell did you get that, Jeongin? Answer me!” Seungmin’s screaming faded into a strangled sob, and Jeongin fell to the floor. Hyunjin wanted to reach out and pull Seungmin into his arms, but any contact may snap his last ounce of self-control, and Jeongin would be dead before the voting began. 

Jeongin grabbed Seungmin’s hands and pleaded for him to stop crying. “Seungmin, I didn’t do it. It’s not me, I promise. Seungmin, please! I snuck the knife in, okay? I wanted to kill myself here and-and let people call it murder.” Seungmin swatted his hand away and Jeongin hurled himself at Seungmin, chanting his name like a scratchy record. “Please. You have to believe me. You’re all I have.” 

Hyunjin couldn’t watch the excuses unfold any longer, not while Felix sat in the corner, smiling like he was seeing Chan in his dreams. He didn’t deserve to be mistreated, especially not in death, and especially not at the hands of a selfish teenager. Hyunjin dropped the knife and slapped the glowing report button, transporting them all to the cafeteria. The Beyond’s Instant Teleportation System was designed specifically for the games, and every time it left Hyunjin feeling queasy. He’s lucky he threw up his food, or he may have spilled his guts on the cafeteria table all six players were gathered around. 

The five boys stared apprehensively at Hyunjin, minus Seungmin, and Minho, who was known for his stoicism. The meetings typically sounded the same, with three common questions: where? Who? Was anyone near? And usually in that order.   
Hyunjin wiped his eyes and spoke before he was bombarded with questions. “In Electrical, it was-” He sucked in a sharp breath and continued shakily. “It was Felix.” Changbin cursed across the table from him, and Hyunjin could see the tears collecting in his eyes. “And Pink was holding a bloodied knife in Electrical, staring at the body.” 

Minho visibly startled at the allegation, but no one noticed except Jisung, who placed a warning hand on his shoulder. 

“I didn’t do it! It wasn’t me!” Jeongin howled, clutching at Seungmin and leaving indents where his nails dug into Seungmin’s hands. Hyunjin reached over to shove Jeongin off and pulled Seungmin to stand on the opposite side of him, glaring all the while. Unfortunately for Jeongin, the person standing in Seungmin’s spot was Lee Minho and the moment he grabbed his arm, weeping, Jeongin was slammed against the table. 

“Touch me again and you’ll spend your last breath wishing they voted you out instead,” Minho growled, pinning Jeongin to the table by twisting his arm behind his back. Jeongin whimpered and Minho turned his attention to the group. “Let’s vote, and make it snappy, or something else will.” Minho twisted further, and Jeongin cried out in pain. 

Everybody agreed, and Hyunjin’s Taskbar screen switched to a list of the players, conveniently armed with photographs and full names. He selected and confirmed his vote for Yang Jeongin, and he saw Seungmin do the same. Minho let up long enough to make his selection and the timer began. The alarms in the cafeteria beeped with each number, and when they reached zero, a voice came over the intercom. Hyunjin was surprised to hear a woman’s voice, and most of the table shared his surprise. Chan or Daehyun did the announcements during the Games, and Hyunjin figured if Chan wasn’t able to, at least his father would. 

“Yang Jeongin will be ejected,” she stated, and Hyunjin could hear muffled yells in the background, paired with the occasional slam of bodies on metal. It sounded exactly how Jeongin had when Seungmin had him trapped against the electrical box. The woman cut out after a particularly loud “fuck you!” that sounded like Chan, and the chaos started. Three men, burly and buff, came into the cafeteria and seized a screaming Jeongin from Minho. They tossed him into a small room, about 3 feet wide and 5 feet long, and locked the heavy doors. A camera was set up inside the room, and when the broadcast crackled to life, Seungmin ducked under the table, covering his ears and singing to himself. 

Jeongin was beating against the door, screaming Seungmin’s name until his voice cracked, and Seungmin sang louder. The men pressed a button outside the room, and the wall behind Jeongin opened like a hatch, exposing the vastness of space. Jeongin pressed his back against the door and planted his feet. Even if he didn’t float into space, the room would eventually be sucked of all oxygen, and that it did. Jeongin gasped for air, clutched at his throat, and kicked the door so hard it rattled. It was all fruitless when the kicking finally stopped and his lifeless body floated into the cosmos. The men pressed the button again and the hatch closed, air pumps adding oxygen back into the room. 

Hyunjin ducked under the table to pull Seungmin to his feet. His hands were clasped over his ears and he kept singing, refusing to open his eyes. 

“Seungmin, it’s all over.” Hyunjin coaxed, trying and failing to pry Seungmin’s fingers from his ears. “Please, angel? It’s alright now.” 

Seungmin opened his eyes and uncovered his ears, watching Hyunjin through his wet lashes. His eyes searched Hyunjin for answers. What was he going to do without his best friend? They asked, and Hyunjin didn’t answer. How could he when he was asking himself the same thing?

The intercom beeped, and the woman’s monotonous voice filtered through the cafeteria. “Yang Jeongin was not the Impostor. One Impostor remains.” 

Seungmin crumpled in his arms.


	7. han jisung: task four

➤ Games Won: 0  
| Game 1 in Progress... 9:41

Minho gave Jisung the directions to Navigation and set off in the opposite direction. Hyunjin was trying to coax Seungmin out from under the table with empty words and a gentle hand outstretched towards him. Seungmin shook him off and huddled further towards the center. Jisung heard him banging against the metal and each pang made him wince. This Seungmin wasn't the Seungmin he knew a few days ago. This Seungmin was Among Us Seungmin, all sharp edges and sudden movements. He lost his roundedness with Jeongin, who always acted as a buffer for him, and now he was resorting to isolation. He can not be hurt if he does not allow hurt in, and if someone hurts him, he can only blame himself. Jisung knew that well. 

He glanced uneasily in the direction Minho pointed and back at Seungmin before sitting on the floor in front of the benches. He rested his forehead against the seat and inhaled deeply. Hyunjin was watching him. He could recognize those eyes on his body no matter how far away the culprit was. Guilt was tearing into his heart, leaving nothing but battered flesh and torn veins behind. If he didn't leave, the words he wanted to say would spill from his lips and kill Minho. Jisung raised his head and sent Seungmin a look he hoped said "I understand you", and stood. Hyunjin stared at him but said nothing, and Jisung left the brokenness. 

To get to Navigation, or Nav, as most of the players called it, Jisung passed by O2, where Minho was waiting. The green backlight from the gauges highlighted his body in the otherwise dark room. He looked pretty, but then he smiled, and the dullness of his eyes made the momentary innocence fade back to black. Jisung wasn't looking at a cute boy from Earth. Not the handsome jocks from the books and cliche movies that the Kims taught him about. No, not Lee Minho. When Minho smiled, his lips pulled back like they were tied to strings connected to the ceiling. Every move he made wasn't him. He was a puppet in the Game, and the coward hiding behind the Control Console was pulling him along. Jisung wouldn't be surprised if the Puppeteer made Minho do a little dance just for the irony of it. To flaunt his power over a group of people who couldn't do anything but obey in fear of being cut loose from the strings and left to face the dark truth of murder. 

"Alright, little sparrow, you ready to learn?" Minho slung his arm across Jisung's shoulders and led them into Navigation. The light was brighter, and Jisung could see the divots in Minho's skin, the acne spots on his chin, the mole on his nose. He was beautiful, Jisung had to admit, even if most of the time he was covered in somebody else's blood. 

Minho stopped in front of a control console covered in LED screens and glowing buttons. "Chart course is simple. The biggest screen is your course, always." Jisung located the largest screen, shaped like a rectangle and flanked by two semi-circle screens on the right side. "It's a fun game of following the line, but the entire ship is depending on you to not kill them. Just drag the ship to each point, slowly, so you don't fuck it up, and we can move on."

Jisung faced the screen and placed his finger on the ship icon. He dragged it as Minho said to each point and when the marker turned green, he moved to the next. The screen blackened after the final marker, and the taskbar on Jisung's tablet rose slightly. The crewmates were almost 3/4ths done, and Minho was becoming fidgety. Jisung grabbed his hand to steady him and walked them towards the download center. It was a plain screen that said DOWNLOAD in upper case letters. Jisung thought the upper case was overkill but held his tongue. Minho leaned on the wall by his side and glued his eyes to the doorway. 

"Minho?" Minho hummed, resting his head against the wall. His hair fell softly across his eyes, and Jisung was struck by the dark chocolate color of his iris. Jisung was constantly haunted by Yeji's dying almond eyes, Hyunjin's furious ones, and Minho's hooded eyes were refreshing. He was truly stunning. 

"Jisung?" Minho whispered, and Jisung noticed that he was leaning closer and closer, dazed by Minho's eyes. He shot backward and shook his head with an awkward laugh. He shook his head like he could shake the thoughts of Minho from his brain and let them clatter to the floor to be stepped on. The download reached 67%, and Minho's bloodied hands cradled Jisung's face. At 72%, Minho kissed Jisung slowly, savoring the taste of his lips and the feeling of Jisung's body pressed into his. 84% and Jisung was melting into Minho's hold, grasping at his shoulders as Minho's kisses deepened and Jisung's jaw slackened. 91%, Jisung's back hit the wall, and Minho's hands grabbed his waist to keep him standing as their tongues met. 99% and Green walked into Navigation. 

Jisung pushed Minho away from him and avoided eye contact by picking at the gaps in the vent beneath his feet with the sole of his shoe. Green was frozen in the doorway, face morphed in shock, but it switched as recognition hit him, and he was smiling brighter than any player Jisung had seen. For a moment, Green had a sparkle Minho could never, and it was from excitement.

"Minho?" Green said. Minho turned to him, motionless with his arms crossed. His lips were slightly red, but despite his wayward appearance, he was scary. "I'm Changbin. I'm friends with Felix? And Chan? I don't know if you know Chan, but he thinks I'm crazy for wanting to talk to you. I think you're super cool." Changbin held out his hand, and Minho shook it. The moment Changbin's buff body slammed against the ground, Jisung turned away. He knew it was coming, but for a second, he thought he saw something shift in Minho. 

"Changbin, can I tell you something?" Minho asked, and Jisung peeked over his shoulder. Changbin was pinned to the ground on his back, with Minho's knee in his chest and his knife at his throat. Minho's hands were shaking, and there were tears on his lashes. "I don't want to be a murderer. I don't want to kill you. You know that, right?" Changbin nodded softly, so as not to jostle the knife on his neck. "I'm honored that you think I'm cool. In our next life, come find me, and I'd love to be your friend. But this life is not suitable for friends, not for people like me." 

"I will find you," Changbin affirmed. Minho smiled, and Changbin died peacefully on the Navigation floor. Jisung hoped he was laughing with Felix, wherever he went, and that they were nice to Jeongin, and hugging him like Seungmin did. He hoped that if Heaven was real, they were the prettiest angels up there. 

Minho pocketed the knife, and the mask returned. There were no signs of the Minho who gently pushed Jisung against the wall and kissed him like he needed the taste of Jisung to live. In fact, there was nothing at all, and Jisung discovered that he mistook the shell of Minho for a mask. A shell was the remnants of the person, a mask was a new person. Not once had Minho acted like a different person, no. Minho only acted like himself the day before he turned 13 and killed his first person, and it was beautiful. 

They were halfway to shields when the lights cut out and the sirens wailed. Jisung reached out, but Minho was gone. He held his hands over his ears to block out the sounds and navigated the hallway through touch. He felt the cool metal railing under his fingertips and called Minho's name into the darkness. Only the sirens replied, and Jisung was completely alone. 


End file.
